


Falling Petals Carry Moonlight

by DragonsPhoenix



Series: Lily Out of Water [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-16
Updated: 2008-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonsPhoenix/pseuds/DragonsPhoenix
Summary: Willow and Spike go their separate ways





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks ever so much to divine one, for the beta read. You are seriously awesome and I appreciate the help.
> 
> Warnings: This story contains violence, death, and references to Watcher Council politics.
> 
> Disclaimer: Joss' characters sure don't belong to me. Lady Marjorie Westriding gets her name from a character in Grass by Sherri Tepper; Lady Marjorie’s appearance is based off of that of Audrey in the PBS series To the Manor Born. None of these characters belong to me. The song I quote is called "Hurt"; I'm familiar with the version sung by Johnny Cash but it's originally by Nine Inch Nails.
> 
> Story so far: In my universe, Angelus does not love Buffy; he has Angel's memories of loving Buffy, but that's it. Also in my universe, vampires cannot perform human magic but some vampires, such as Angel/Angelus, can detect which humans have magical power. When Angel loses his soul, Angelus decides he wants access to Willow's magical power so he kidnaps and brainwashes her. Buffy, Giles, and Xander were killed when they tried to rescue Willow. Angelus, helped by Willow, Spike and Drusilla, attacks a Council library, causing the death of two of its caretakers. When Spike finally gets too fed up with Angelus' taunts to remain, Willow leaves with him. Subsequently Willow has a nervous breakdown and Spike takes her to be healed. Unfortunately this very deep soul healing forces her to realize she can't stay with the vampire and she leaves him at the end of the fourth story.
> 
> Post of an old story. With rumors about LJ possibly going belly up, I'm deciding what to save.

  
_Men in black combat uniforms, computer generated camouflage, specifically designed to hide the wearer in shadows, blacker than black against the darkness, stealthed into place, surrounding Willow as she moved away from crowds, as she moved away from witnesses._  
  
Fleeing my love, I tore out my heart and left it behind me. I grew a new heart and with wondering eyes saw the world anew. However I could still see the danger, the evil lurking under the surface but, with no way to fight the darkness, I wandered without purpose in the city that had given my love life. And death. My heart hunted me down there. Even though we’d never been there together, everywhere I looked, I saw my love: he was just down every street, he was about to step around every corner.  
  
I’d been successfully drinking myself into oblivion when I realized where I was. The name of the pub had changed, it was The Fox and Badger now, but this was the place Spike had told me about, this was where Spike and Angelus had played that game of darts. They’d created an elaborate system of points for hitting different body parts – eyeballs scored the most points because they were small, hard to hit – especially on a running target – and they squished amusingly.  
  
I barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. I didn’t try to get drunk again but instead fled to the twilight darkened streets, not noticing where I was heading, until I felt a sharp pain on my hip. I looked down to see a dart. I had just started to wonder why Angelus had gone for such an easy target when I blacked out.

  
\---

  
After... I went back to the last place I’d been completely happy. I went back to the last place where I’d had control. Sunnydale. I thought about knocking down the sign, for old times sake. Didn’t.  
  
Willow wasn’t there. A new family lived in her home. Knowing Angel would take his rage out on them, she must have warned her parents off, that or Angel actually had come back. Either way, it was a dead end as far as I was concerned.  
  
I wandered around in a daze, completely losing track of time in California’s eternal summer with winter's darkness in my heart. Was a wonder I didn’t get myself killed. Time was when a good fight would have cheered me right up. Not now. I dealt with it when I was attacked, vanquished mine enemies, left them for dead, all that rot but didn’t get any enjoyment out of it.  
  
Barely kept myself fed until the night I found myself in a kitchen with a knife in my hand and five corpses strewn at my feet. Must have been quite a frenzy but I didn’t remember it. Radio, tuned to an all-pain-all-the-time station, started playing:

I hurt myself today  
To see if I still feel  
I focus on the pain  
The only thing that's real

  
I followed the music down to the basement, some sort of tacky 70's retro look in what seemed to be a den. I'd planned to trash the radio but by the time I'd gotten down there the words had sunk in. Physical pain I could deal with so I took the knife and stabbed it into my heart. Bloody Hell! I pulled it out, which hurt even more, but I felt better, clearer. I stabbed my heart again, fell to the floor, and lay twitching on the lime green shag until I heard more truth than I could take.

I wear this crown of thorns  
Upon my liar's chair  
Full of broken thoughts  
I cannot repair  
Beneath the stains of time  
The feelings disappear  
You are someone else  
I am still right here

  
I pulled the knife out and stumble-dragged myself across the room to smash the radio. I knew what I had to do. I’d stayed here because I didn’t want to know that Willow had left me for Angel, but now I had to see it with my own eyes.  
  
Knowing that the truth would hurt more than the knife, I went in search of the truth.

  
\---

  
When I woke, I kept my eyes closed, trying not to signal I was conscious. My mind felt foggy: whatever had been in that dart packed quite a wallop. A cool breeze rushed across my face but my body was covered and warm. I could hear birds chirping but nothing else. I smelled... food?  
  
I opened my eyes. I focused on the food but got a general impression of the room: understated, high quality. A silver serving set that looked like an heirloom sat on a side table. I lifted a cover: eggs, bacon, potatoes and. Beans? Still warm. I thought about eating. If they’d wanted to keep me drugged they could have done it while I was under. _Like Spike had_. On the other hand, after living with Angelus for years, I’d known creatures that would have enjoyed tricking some poor soul into poisoning himself. I glanced at the sun filled day through the window. _Whoever is holding me here isn’t Angel_. Still, the principle held. After using a few magic spells to check for different poisons, I decided that the food was probably, almost definitely, safe to eat.  
  
After breakfast, knowing I wouldn’t get far in a nightgown, I opened the closet to find all the clothes I’d acquired since I’d left Spike. He’d cared more about saving my life than our belongings and had abandoned everything but the clothes on our backs in his rush. Whoever had me had taken the time and care to bring all my belongings here. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or disturbed. _It would help if I knew who they were_ , I thought as I peered out of my room. A man wearing a dark outfit that had the look of a servant’s uniform, which fit with what I’d seen so far of the house, was waiting in the hall. With his thin frame he should have looked innocuous but I’d lived among vampires long enough to recognize someone who could take care of himself in a fight. “This way, miss,” he said, very formally, before leading me downstairs.  
  
“Thank you Mr.?” I asked.  
  
“Conway, miss,” he replied as we entered a parlor where two people sat, apparently waiting for me. The woman, old enough to be my mother, gave off the same impression as the house – old money. She wore neutral colors: tan silk blouse, plaid patterns of beige and gray on a skirt that fell below her knees, and sensible brown pumps. I couldn’t tell if it was her face, which could claim more character than beauty, or the assured way she held herself, but she dominated the room. The man, who was closer to my age, older than me by about 5, at most 10, years, wore clothes that looked as tasteful as the woman’s although more utilitarian: black turtleneck, black pants, and leather pumps. He looked like the type who could have worn that spotless outfit into battle and come out looking as polished as when the fighting had started. I’d put on the most conservative outfit I had, not knowing where I’d need to blend in, but with my skirt well above my knees, I looked cheap and flashy in comparison.  
  
“Ah, Miss Rosenberg,” said the woman in a tone that was both polite and welcoming. “I’m Lady Marjorie Westriding and this is my nephew, Wesley Wyndam-Price. Would you care for some tea?” she asked, pouring out the tea and letting me choose my own cup. I admired her subtlety and waited for them to make the first move.  
  
“I trust you found your room to your liking?” she asked.  
  
“Yes, thank you Lady Westriding. It’s very comfortable and the breakfast cleared my head.” The man, Mr. Wyndam-Price, rolled his eyes; Lady Westriding glared at him for a moment and then leaned towards me slightly, saying, “Please, call me Lady Marjorie and feel free to refer to my nephew as Wesley.” As she finished speaking, he spared her an irritated glance but didn’t comment.  
  
I’d done something wrong but didn’t know what. “Thank you, Lady Marjorie.”  
  
“You are no longer traveling with your companions from New York?” she asked as she added sugar to her tea.  
  
 _Who are they? Should I threaten them? Tell them that Angel would tear England down stone by stone to find me? OK, that metaphor was just a tad over the top; may as well have just asked, “Where’s Buttercup?”_ “Mmm,” I nodded noncommittally.  
  
Her nephew spoke for the first time. “We know you’ve had a falling out with the vampires.”  
  
“Do you?” I asked. _How long have they been keeping track of me?_  
  
“Angel has made some especially brutal killings lately, even for him. Each of the women had red hair, which may have been coincidence...” he trailed off. Lady Marjorie glared at him although whether that was because he’d unsettled me or because he’d given me information she didn’t want me to have, I didn't know.  
  
I tried to hide my discomfort with a superior smile but I’m afraid my expression must have looked as desperate as I felt. _Angelus is killing me by proxy? Why should I be surprised? He almost killed me in the alley. If Spike hadn’t been following me, he would have succeeded_. “Lover’s quarrels are quickly mended,” I replied.  
  
“The viciousness of the attacks suggests...” he started.  
  
I leaned towards him and interrupted, whispering, “You don’t know vampires as well as I do.”  
  
Lady Marjorie touched Mr. Wyndam-Price’s hand and something passed between them. His next words were filled with certainty. “We know Angelus well enough to be certain that this is something more than a lover’s quarrel.”  
  
Between the two of them, I felt like I was walking on quicksand. “Believe what you will,” I replied for lack of a better response.  
  
“We believe you and Spike left Angel a little under four months ago.” I didn’t quite gasp when he said Spike’s name but I could see they’d both noticed my reaction although Mr. Wyndam-Price continued without commenting on it. “We lost track of you and Spike after you left New York until you showed up here, alone in England, and he returned to New York, at least temporarily. He’s vanished from view again but it’s highly doubtful he’s in New York and he’s certainly not with Angel.”  
  
“You’ve been tracking us?”  
  
“The Council wants you dead,” he replied.  
  
“Me?” I asked.  
  
He ticked off four fingers in response. “Angelus, Spike, Drusilla, and of course yourself.” He closed his fist in a dramatic gesture. “In response to your attack on the Perry library and the deaths of two of its caretakers.”  
  
I hardened my heart at the thought. Robert, Paul's assistant, had died quickly but Angelus, jealous that I had befriended the older man, had directed Spike and Drusilla to drag out Paul's death. Needing to change the subject before my feeling betrayed me, I asked “And what’s that to you?”  
  
Lady Marjorie replied. “My nephew heads one of the Council factions.”  
  
 _Then why am I still alive? “Council factions” she said. Paul told me to choose carefully whom I approached if I went to the Council but it looks like the Council’s come to me. Perhaps I can shock them into giving something away_. “They why aren’t I dead? Do you expect me to help you hunt down my friends and then sit tamely by, like some loyal dog, while you kill me as well?” Lady Marjorie remained calm but Mr. Wyndam-Price flinched, barely enough to be noticeable but I caught it, when I referred to the vampires as my friends.  
  
“We,” Lady Marjorie replied with a glance at her nephew, “should have said certain factions in the Council want you dead. When you attacked the Perry library, you made enemies in the Council. They realized you were traveling alone and decided to act but Wesley’s people got to you first. I convinced him to bring you here.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Rupert Giles was a close friend,” she said. “He spoke very highly of you and I’m convinced thought of you as a protégé. Knowing you’d been... manipulated, I acted as Rupert would have wanted. Once we had you under our protection, we were planning to deprogram you but it wasn’t necessary. Why?”  
  
“Have you heard of the House of the Catmaster?” I asked.  
  
They both paled. “You survived?” Overcome by memories of the awe I’d felt in that place, I nodded in response.  
  
Lady Marjorie spoke a guttural phrase and magic washed over me. “She’s speaking the truth. The magic of that place is still on her. And something else, you’ve made an oath. You’ve sworn to defend, to protect, to... heal.”  
  
“It wasn’t an oath so much as a feeling.”

“In that place, they’re the same thing,” Lady Marjorie said.  
  
I waved that aside. Spike was in immediate danger. Lady Marjorie’s magic was a palpable presence, not as strong as mine but I sensed she could call upon the magic of others at a moments notice. To get out of here, I’d have to be subtle. “You said I’d been manipulated.”  
  
Lady Marjorie started to answer but was interrupted by her nephew. “You were brainwashed by your so called friends. We’ve read your journal.”  
  
“My journal?” I asked, absolutely stunned.  
  
“We found it. We were meant to find it. Perhaps you didn’t know that Mr. Giles and Miss Summers were, I suppose put on display is the best way to describe it: they were seated to look like a father reading to his daughter, the book in Mr. Giles’ hands was your journal.”  
  
 _Did I think that talking to them was like walking on quicksand? It’s more like being sucked down by a whirlpool. I’ll need a focus, a purpose if I’m going to get through this. Spike. I still need to warn Spike_. Even to save Spike, I didn’t know how to respond until Mr. Wyndam-Price attacked again. “It would soothe things over if you helped us kill the vampires. Angelus and Drusilla are still in New York. Spike will turn up some...”  
  
“No,” I interrupted. _So much for subtle_ , I thought.  
  
As Mr. Wyndam-Price started to rise from his chair, Lady Marjorie held up her hand. He sank back down, looking at me warily. “Could you kill Angel?” she asked me.  
  
“He... Yes,” I reluctantly replied, my voice barely above a whisper.  
  
“Drusilla?” she continued.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Spike?” she asked.  
  
“I don’t think I could bring myself to...”  
  
“Wesley,” Lady Marjorie nodded towards the door. He gave me a disgusted look as he left. I looked away.  
  
“Miss Rosenberg,” Lady Marjorie said, “it would be best if you remained here.” I startled at her statement, as this was the last thing I’d expected to hear from her. “But you’re planning to leave,” she continued. “To find Spike? To warn him?” I didn’t bother to reply. “Think,” she said. “How will you find him?”  
  
“I can’t stay here while you kill him,” I replied. _Shit_. I’d completely lost control of the conversation, assuming I’d ever had any control over it.  
  
“I’ll make you a deal. If you remain here...”  
  
“Remain?” I interrupted.  
  
“You are, of course, free to leave whenever you want although I wouldn’t recommend it. You’re overwrought and we won’t be able to save you a second time. If you remain here, I promise that Wesley’s people won’t harm Spike.”  
  
I thought about how Mr. Wyndam-Price had reacted earlier. She hadn’t said no harm would come to Spike. Her nephew could pass Spike’s location to the other factions and Spike would be just as dead. “I don’t believe your nephew will agree,” I told her.  
  
“I can convince him,” she replied.  
  
“Why should I trust you? Or him, for that matter.”  
  
“I know you’ve been close to the vampire but you don’t have the Council’s resources. They will almost certainly find him first. We can find a way to put you in contact with him, to warn him yourself.”  
  
“I. Don’t. Know,” I cried. I didn't know what to do; trust these polite enemies and hope they wouldn't betray me or try to escape the open cell they'd thrown me into. I wasn't ready. I had no allies.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Lady Marjorie replied. “This is too much, too soon. I’ll set things in motion with Wesley and you can give me your answer tomorrow, after you’ve had a good night’s rest.”  
  
 _They’ll be looking for him either way,_ I thought. _To kill him if I don’t agree to whatever it is they want. If I do agree, they might kill him anyway._

  
\---

  
“Spike. Spike. Spike. Didn’t anyone ever tell you? Playing peeping Tom is just rude.” I took a drag of my cigarette and didn’t answer. “Dru’s not coming back to you and I wouldn’t have your sorry ass back for all the tea in China. Poor Spike, how it must hurt to be alone.” Angel dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s because you don’t know how to keep the ladies happy. You lost Dru to me and you lost Willow to...”  
  
“To?”  
  
Angelus singsonged, “You don’t know who has Willow.”  
  
“She didn’t come back to you. I’m bloody sure of that.” _No. I’m not sure. Haven’t seen her here though_.  
  
Angel laughed. “It might have been safer for her than where she’s at now, probably not though. I’d likely kill the witch even if she came crawling back to me on her hands and knees.”  
  
“What do you know? Who has Willow?” I asked.  
  
“Ah, Spike. You leave me. You take my witch. You sit here mooning after my girl. She is my girl, you know. She told me you never were really able to satisfy her.”  
  
 _He’s playing an old game. Tormenting me about Drusilla. Yes, it still hurts but if what he’s suggesting is true, that Willow is in danger... Fine. You want to play an old game? I’ll give you and old game_. I leapt at Angel and slammed him against the alley wall. “Where is Willow?”  
  
Laughing, Angel broke my grip and shoved me away. “Council’s got her. She went to London after she... dumped you. Either they’ve decided to go in for extended torture or she’s dead by now.”  
  
 _Council? Those bastards. Some of the shit they pull makes Angel look like a bloody saint_. “We've got to rescue her.”  
  
“We? Spike. They saved me the trouble of hunting her down and torturing her myself. Not that I wouldn't have enjoyed the chance. That fair skin bruises, ah, so easily.” As he turned and walked away, Angel said, “Good luck rescuing your lady fair.” Turning back, he added, “Oh, and Spike? Don’t come back. I’ll kill you next time.”

  
\---

  
“Wesley, please bring these two pails,” my aunt directed while picking up a third pail of flowers herself.  
  
As we climbed the stairs up from the cellar, I asked, “Are you certain Miss Rosenberg won't be able to overhear our conversation?”  
  
Closing the cellar door behind us, my aunt replied, “As you well know, Susan Price is reviewing Miss Rosenberg's magical knowledge in the mother-in-law cottage. While Susan doesn't have as much magical power as Miss Rosenberg, she does have enough to detect any attempts to magically listen in on our conversation.” Aunt Marjorie turned, raised an eyebrow at me, and then continued admonishingly, “As do I. We can speak freely, Wesley.”  
  
We walked through the tea room, which was warmed out of its autumn chill by sunlight streaming in through the bay window, and towards a small table where where seven vases of varying sizes were laid out below a hop vine wreath.

Since my aunt was already annoyed with me, I decided I didn't need to be diplomatic. “You can’t expect me to ally myself with her.”  
  
“Hand me the spindle, Wesley. I don’t see why not since you want to bring both witches and Americans into the Council,” she replied as she arranged the yellow leaved foliage in the first vase.  
  
“The Council will never accept someone who’s been so closely associated with vampires,” I replied.  
  
“From what I understand, Angel assisted the Slayer,” she said, deliberately using Giles’ name for the vampire.  
  
“Angelus killed the Slayer. And her Watcher,” I sniped.  
  
“The ampeliosis next please. But while he had his human soul...” she added as I passed her the branches.  
  
“None of them currently have human souls,” I interrupted, “Which does not seem to have changed Miss Rosenberg’s regard for them.”  
  
“You’re exaggerating, Wesley. She said herself that she’d be willing to kill Angelus and Drusilla. Abutilon.” she replied placing a second vase back on the table.  
  
“But not Spike,” I said, passing her the shorter stemmed red flowers.  
  
“Spike is the key. If she felt he weren’t threatened...” she started.  
  
“May I remind you that it is my duty to kill vampires?” I interrupted.  
  
“Wesley,” she snapped. “I am well aware of how you feel about vampires, especially after they killed your Slayer but the Council was not completely innocent in that disaster either. You’re blinding yourself to the bigger picture.” She precisely arranged three flowers in a third vase, giving us both time to calm down.  
  
“Very well. I shall attempt to keep my prejudices against evil, undead monsters in check. You want her as an ally for my faction,” I replied, handing her two cosmos flowers. In way of an apology I added, “This dark brown will make a lovely progression with the yellow-red spindle and the abutilon.”

  
“Yes, thank you Wesley,” she replied. “Of course I want her allied with your faction. Her power will attract alliances and yours is the most ethical faction in the Council. Even if you weren’t my nephew, I’d want her allied with you.”  
  
“I’m not sure I want her. Do you know how much trouble she’ll cause me? Paul Smith had many Council connections and allies before Miss Rosenberg and her friends killed him.”  
  
“We can explain. They’d understand about the House of the Catmaster,” she said.  
  
“People are driven by emotions. Logic won’t be enough. Allying myself with her will cost me too many key people in the Council,” I replied.  
  
“Taylor can swing some to your side. Hand me the red violets, please,” she added.  
  
“After being out of the country for over two decades, his connections aren’t what they once were,” I said, handing her flowers just a few shades darker than the cosmos.

“He’s been back here for the past two years, renewing his contacts while working for you,” she replied, adding about a half-dozen violets to the vase that already contained the larger cosmos.  
  
“Yes, and he’s known as my man. He’s thought of as biased.”  
  
She stopped arranging flowers and turned to gape at me. “He’s the foremost expert on numerous branches of the occult. His opinion is highly respected.”  
  
“In occult circles, yes, but the Council has a different view. They believe he abandoned his duty,” I replied.  
  
“The Council relies on his expertise.”  
  
"Only because Faith insisted," I said.  
  
She put her hand over mine to comfort me. Of course, being my aunt, she then dropped the maternal role by expecting the impossible. “Have him come up with a convincing argument, Wesley. He and Mannering will do what you want them to.”  
  
“They will do what I ask within reason but yes, in this case I do believe you are correct,” I briefly surrendered. “However Travers will oppose it merely to weaken my power base. Urqhart’s in his pocket and Aldridge was much too close to Smith to ever agree to bring his murderess into the Council.”  
  
“Miss Rosenberg didn’t murder Paul Smith.”  
  
“She was part of it. Come to think of it, Taylor and Smith were roommates at Oxford, very close friends.” I was suddenly worried Aidan Taylor wouldn’t follow my lead concerning Miss Rosenberg.  
  
“Taylor will come round,” she said as she pointed to the dahlias.  
  
“Know him that well, do you?” I asked, passing her the bright red flowers.  
  
As she arranged the dahlias in the fifth vase, she said, “I know his reputation both as a scholar and in terms of his loyalty to you.” I’d explained the basis of that loyalty to her so she knew I could count on Aidan for almost anything. “Tell him about Willow’s situation: the brainwashing, the House of the Catmaster, and especially her oath. He’ll know what that means better than either of us do. That leaves Samuels, Collingridge, O’Neill, McFarlane, and Eddington. O’Neill owes me a favor.”  
  
“Been playing Council politics, aunt?” I asked.  
  
“He’ll convince Collingridge for us,” she said, removing Italian bugloss, Apple of Peru, and purple violets from the third pail.  
  
“That must have been one Hell of a favor,” I added.  
  
“Don’t swear, Wesley,” she said, pushing stems between the marbles of one of the smallest vases. “Samuels is a lost cause. He’ll never agree to bring magic users into the Council so that leaves two to be worked on: Eddington and McFarlane.”  
  
“And one other, I’m afraid. I’m still not convinced.”  
  
“She has too much power, Wesley, and she’s looking to do good. She’s going to align herself with someone. Do you want a repeat of that fiasco with Harding? Good intentions leading to disaster? Or think of that power in the hands of a plausible con artist. She must be allied with somebody both ethical and pragmatic. None of the other factions come close to having your ethics and your pragmatism has been hard earned.” She removed gentians from the third pail and started pushing their stems between the marbles of the final vase.  
  
 _Oh Lord, as if my aunt weren’t idealistic enough, she’s foisting a starry-eyed..._  
  
“Wesley,” she interrupted with a voice that snapped right through me; ever since I was a boy that tone meant I’d put my foot in it. “Both Miss Rosenberg and I are significantly more pragmatic than you are currently giving us credit for.”  
  
I put a baleful expression on my face. While I didn’t expect it to faze my aunt, and it didn’t, it was useful to keep in practice for when I was dealing with lesser beings. “I never can tell how you know what I’m thinking, occasionally before I do.”

She smirked in response and added a few final flowers to the last vase. “Stop glaring at me, Wesley. Now back to Miss Rosenberg...”  
  
“Yes, all right, aunt, you’ve made your point. I’ll bring Miss Rosenberg into the Council although you should start praying that one of the other factions doesn’t kill her.  
  
“We’ve put her on her guard. I doubt they could now,” she said.  
  
“That dart we shot her with needn’t have contained a tranquilizer,” I replied.  
  
“Wesley Wyndam-Price!”  
  
“I know, aunt. You’ve convinced me this is the right thing to do and I never completely disagreed with you. That kind of oath doesn’t come out of nowhere. I suspect Powers are interfering but it does make my life significantly more difficult.”  
  
“You’d get bored if your life wasn’t difficult,” she said, scattering hop seeds between the vases.  
  
“Sometimes I think I’d like boredom.”


	2. Chapter 2

I walked into the bar; ‘dive’ would have been a better word for it. What do you do with a drunken sailor? Dump him in the alley and abscond with his wallet, it was that kind of a place. I grabbed a barstool and smashed it over a table. The three guys sitting there had a bit of a problem with that. They got up and eight seconds later I had three unconscious men at my feet.  
  
“OK,” I shouted to the bar. “Got your attention now, right? Here’s how it’s going to work.” There was a brute of a guy one table over, as I spoke to the crowd, I walked over to him. “I need information. I’m going to break bones,” I kicked his chair over and he fell to the floor. A couple of flashy kicks broke some of his ribs, “and I’m going to keep breaking bones until one of you tells me what I want to know.”  
  
Some young punk rushed for the back door. It didn’t open. “All the exits are locked except this one,” I said pointing to the door behind me. I flew to the back, grabbed the punk, and dragged him to the front before anyone else could move. I broke one of his fingers and he fell to his knees, screaming. “A woman was kidnapped from the Fox and Badger. Who took her?” No response. I broke two more fingers. I worked through everyone in the bar, fighting when they attacked, and breaking bones when I could. Learned nothing useful so I moved on.  
  
At the fifth bar, a dozen guys attacked me. Killed three of them, as easy as one, two, three before feeding off of the fourth, which dispersed the rest of them. Feeding will terrify even the most vicious human. Useful that. This bar was slightly more upscale than the last four, although that wasn’t saying much. Some idiot had brought his girlfriend, who stuck out like a sore thumb. Good a place to start as any. I stomped down on her foot, lots of breakable bones in a foot. Boyfriend, predictably, attacked. I slammed his face into a wall. There was a group in the back, huddled around their table, talking intensely. Up to something. “Hey, you guys have something for me or are you volunteering to be next?” Two of the punks pushed away from the third, who looked around nervously before standing.  
  
“Umm,” he stammered, “I might have something for you.” Still in vamp-face, I stalked over to him. “Sir,” he added.  
  
“What do you know?”  
  
“My cousin, umm, he might have mentioned something about picking up a woman at the Fox and Badger.”  
  
“Picking up?” I sneered. “How is the Council involved?” He looked around nervously when I mentioned the Council but kept talking. Bingo.  
  
“Look, he likes to brag, to have one up on me, so he tells me things,” he said.  
  
“Where did they take her?” I asked.  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
I picked up a fork and stabbed it into his friend’s cheek. “Then take me to your cousin.” As we left, I signaled to some vamps for hire, waiting in the shadows, to take care of the rest of the people in the bar. Couldn’t have anyone warning the cousin that we were coming.  
  
After he pointed out his goon of a cousin to me, I snapped the punk’s neck. As I tracked the goon around London, I learned two useful things: he was the boy toy of some old bat and he was a Council enforcer, although not one of their most elite squads. Not nearly as tough a group as I’d expect to be sent after someone with Willow’s power. I was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t gone with them willingly. Angel had said she’d been taken but he’d chosen his words to wound. No. If Willow had gone to the Council voluntarily, they wouldn’t have needed the goons, plus Angel would have loved telling me that Willow had left me, willingly, for the Council.  
  
I followed lover boy and the old bat to an apartment building, the kind of place you’d expect a bored society dame to keep for trysts with her boy toys. Didn’t look like something the Council would have set up. While the Council can be subtle, having one of their goons act out the lover boy role wasn’t quite their style. At least I hoped so. With Willow in danger, I didn’t have time to check out backgrounds but, luckily, I had an ace in the hole, well, in my pocket.  
  
I pulled out the box, inconsequential of itself, and opened it up; an r’nathian star, used by Sustiri demons to travel between dimensions. Story is, a Slayer took the star off of a pack of Sustiri, killing some, but the rest scattered, managed to survive, and were trapped in this dimension, unable to get back to home, sweet, home. I’d nicked it in the Council library, distracting Angel, whose stupidity shone through that night when he believed me, with an Orb of Thessela. Thought Willow had pegged me when she caught me patting my pocket as soon as Angel was out of sight but I’d made a big production of looking for my cigarettes and the show seemed to have satisfied her.  
  
I climbed up the fire escape. Huh, lover boy worked fast or maybe I should say the old bat worked fast since she seemed to like it on top. Their fucking looked almost mechanical but it would keep them busy while I called for help – I needed to know they were telling me the truth and wasn't certain mere violence would be enough this time. I opened the box and the Sustiri demons shimmered into view, only three of them, which was fewer than I’d expected but enough for my purposes. The Sustiri could pass for human by hiding the stinging tentacles that allows them to selectively paralyze their prey: means the prey can’t move to escape but the Sustiri get to enjoy hearing their screams. Useful that. They also sting out venom that forces humans to tell the truth. I don’t know what it does back in their dimension since, as far as I know, their dimension doesn't have any humans, other than those they bring back with them.  
  
“Want this?” I asked, holding up the r’nathian star.  
  
“Yess,” one of them, call him the leader, hissed in response.  
  
“Here’s the deal. Do what I want and you get it. See that couple? I need to have a quiet conversation with them, most likely with the man but the woman might also know something. When I’m done with the couple, you get the r’nathian star, I’ll throw in the couple as well but I stay here, safe and sound. I want you to paralyze them, inject him with your truth venom to start with, and we’ll go from there. Oh, I’ll need the woman to invite me in so inject her as well. Deal?”  
  
Never figured out how the Sustiri managed to hiss out a word like “deal” but they did and fortunately, unlike some, well most, demons, they didn't go back on their word.  
  
“Come in,” I heard the old bat say. The Sustiri had tentacles down the throats of the couple, not killing them, just half-choking them, keeping them quiet. They were both terrified but not nearly as terrified as they should have been, obviously they didn’t recognize the Sustiri.  
  
“He truth venomed up?” I asked.  
  
“Yess,” the demon hissed as it removed tentacles from lover boy’s mouth.  
  
“No screaming now,” I said. In his venomed state, lover boy wouldn’t be able to scream now that I’d told him not to. “You scream and the bird gets it.”  
  
“Like I care what happens to her.” Lover boy not so lover like, what a surprise. The Sustiri must have loosened the tentacle on the woman since she started whimpering at lover boy’s words.  
  
“She Council?” I asked.  
  
“Her? No.”  
  
I explained I was looking for a woman taken from the Fox and Badger and saw recognition in his eyes. I pointed to the old bat and asked, “She know anything about it?”  
  
“Nothing,” he replied. “She knows nothing you want to know. She knows every horse race back for the past two centuries. She knows the best people. She knows enough to be boring as Hell but not...”  
  
“Enough,” I commanded. I looked back at the Sustiri holding the old bat down and said, “I don’t need her anymore.” The Sustiri shifted its tentacles and she started screaming, not loudly through the gag of tentacles, but it sounded like the Halleluiah chorus from where I was standing. Lover boy didn’t seem to appreciate it as much as I did. No matter, he’d sound like a choir of bloody cherubim when he told me how to find Willow.  
  
“Angel,” I started but lover boy got all twitchy so I stopped until I realized why. Frightened of Angel, was he? I decided I could use that to my advantage. “Didn’t know you were dealing with William the Bloody, did you?” He became very still and shook his head. “Angel always said the Sustiri are masters of pain and he should know, he’s a connoisseur. The most exquisite pain you’ll feel in your life and they can sustain it for decades. It will be the last thing you ever feel, the only thing you’ll ever feel after I’m done with you.” I looked back at the woman whose innards were pushing their way out through her skin. Not a drop of blood marred the bedding. Efficient that and effective, the longer it took for the Council to figure out what had happened, the more time I had. I turned on a light so lover boy could see. His response, the scent and sight of his terror, was everything I’d hoped for and more than I’d expected given my earlier command to keep him quiet. As a tentacle cut off his screams, I reinforced my commands.  
  
Curious, I asked one of the Sustiri, “How long can you keep lover boy here alive?”  
  
“Twenty-seven years, five months, sixteen days, nineteen hours, and eight minutes. Approximately,” it hissed.  
  
“Approximately? That’s pretty exact,” I replied.  
  
“We know exactly what we’re going to do to it.”  
  
“Well, don’t want to keep you from your fun,” I said, turning back to lover boy. “No screaming. Who took Willow?”  
  
“The Council,” he replied.  
  
“Know it was the bloody Council. Give me a complete answer. Who took Willow and why?”  
  
“Wesley Wyndam-Price. I don’t know any of the details but he grabbed her to keep Travers’ faction from killing the witch.”  
  
“Killing?” I panicked. “Why'd the Council want her dead?”  
  
“They still do, all four of you, for your actions at the Perry library. She was just the first to become vulnerable,” he replied.  
  
“Why did this windbag-Price.”  
  
“Wyndam-Price,” he interrupted.  
  
“Whatever. Why did he save her?” I finished.  
  
“Infighting in the highest levels of the Council, that’s all I know,” he replied.  
  
“Where’s Willow?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he answered.  
  
“Who would?” I asked.  
  
“Mr. Wyndam-Price; probably very few others if he’s going to keep her safe from Travers’ cronies.”  
  
“So,” I found my final question, “where can I find this Wesley Wyndam-Price?” When lover boy had finished telling me everything he knew, I handed the r’nathian star over to the Sustiri. Judging by lover boy’s muted screams, they'd started torturing him on their way home however they kept the screaming couple gagged so as not to disturb the neighbors. A pleasure to do business with, are the Sustiri.  
  
To delay and confuse the Council, I picked up any personal belongings the couple would have taken with them and sank them in the river. Clearing my mind with a smoke, I considered my next move – I didn’t know what the Council wanted with Willow or how long she’d be safe, or remain alive, in their not so tender care. Time to find this Wesley Wyndam-Price.

  
\---

  
Mr. Wyndam-Price insisted on teaching me darts while we talked. “Look,” he said, “we won’t play for points, just toss the darts at the board. It will relax you.” _Relax me?_ I thought. _Not while I’m thinking about that game Spike and Angel played_. I threw a dart towards the board. It hit the floor. “You were holding it too tightly. Here, more like this,” he said as he handed me a dart and then carefully arranged my fingers around it. “Instead of throwing with your whole arm, flick your wrist, like so.” I copied his motion and actually hit the board. _Perhaps this game isn’t as terrible as I’d thought it would be_.  
  
After we’d each thrown a couple of rounds, he apparently decided it was time to get down to business and asked, “Have you thought about aligning yourself with the Council?”  
  
“The same Council that’s trying to kill me?” I replied. My dart hit the wall and my mind wandered to the sounds of shattering glass and a cat’s scream. I couldn’t keep a smile off my lips.  
  
“Young Frankenstein?” he asked. I must have looked as astonished as I felt because he added, “It’s what I thought of the first time my dart missed the board and no not with the Council that’s trying to kill you. I’m inviting you to align yourself with my faction.”  
  
 _Who only drugged and kidnapped me. Angelus kidnapped me and for all I know, you’re no better than Angelus. Except. Look at Giles. And Paul. If I could choose them as allies, I would. All right, I’ll hear you out. Let’s see how honest you really are._ “Does the Council usually recruit witches?”  
  
“Historically, no. While magical potential does tend to run in Council families, those with real power were not allowed into the Council. Traditional thought was that magical power would corrupt our noble purpose.” He shot off dart, hitting a bull’s eye.  
  
 _Can’t say I’m pleased to hear that_. “So magic is the only type of power that corrupts?” I asked as he threw another dart, which landed close to the first one.  
  
He must have heard something in the tone of my voice because he turned towards me before replying. “As I said, Council members have traditionally thought that way. Unfortunately, they've managed to ignore the corruption that's crept in elsewhere, as in the treatment of Slayers.”  
  
“But Giles always treated Buffy with respect,” I replied.“Giles was something of a renegade and you were... you... left before the Cruciamentum.”  
  
“The what?” I asked.  
  
“Something I’m trying to get rid of. What the Council does, the things I saw when I was a Watcher...” He stopped, sighed, and turned back to the dartboard. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m getting rather carried away on a tangent.”  
  
As he was lining up his throw, I asked, “You were a Watcher?”  
  
His dart hit the board, barely, but his voice was calm when he replied. “For Faith Lehane. She replaced Kendra, whom I believe you’ve met. Which is another reason I’d like to recruit you. Three of the last four Slayers were American; in addition to recruiting magic users, I want to increase our presence in the States.”  
  
As he picked the darts off the board, I realized he’d been using this game to assess my emotional state and more importantly that he’d just given his own away. Whatever had happened while he was a Watcher must have had a profound effect on him, that or he was playing a much subtler game than I’d given him credit for. I’d discounted him. I’d thought that his aunt was subtle and dangerous but they both were.  
  
I decided to push him a bit. As he handed me that darts, I said, “It seems like you’re taking on quite a lot. Reforming the Council. Protecting the Slayers. Bringing in magic users.”  
  
He started pacing the room. “It’s all the same problem. I can’t pick out one thread and say that I’ll work on this and only this because it all ties together. Take the idea that the Slayers need more support. What kind? Traditionally they’ve been assigned one Watcher, a scholar. When I was in the field we worked with a coven, whose support was invaluable, and Faith had training, the kind of training Slayers haven’t had for centuries. I want all Slayers to have that but what will it take? Reforming the Council. Brining magic users into the Council. Basically, the fight of my life,” he finished with a wry grin.  
  
“You’d have witches working with Slayers? You wouldn’t assign me to a Slayer?” _I don’t think I could stand meeting Buffy’s replacement._  
  
“We wouldn’t ask you to undergo Watcher training. I think you could, however, protect a small Hellmouth,” he replied.  
  
“Lady Marjorie insists I need magical training. Apparently my studies have been too haphazard. She expects to be training me in fundamentals for the next few years.” My voice sounded terribly tentative, even to my ears. _I’m supposed to be this big deal, super powerful witch that everybody wants but I have to go back to the basic?_  
  
“Aunt Marjorie has filled me in on your training. You’ll finish the fundamentals more quickly than you expect, although she does have more she wants you to study here in Devonshire. I can use that time to get you accepted by the Council and bring you to London for occasional visits so you can start making contacts. Once you’re set up on a Hellmouth, I’d like to intern potential Watchers with you. Our current training regime is inadequate and your experience would be invaluable. You’d be working with my colleague, Aidan Taylor, who has quite a number of strong opinions on the subject of Watcher training.”  
  
“I need some time to think it over. If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk in the garden,” I said.  
  
“Of course, I’ll clean up here and then go back to the house,” he replied. I handed the darts back to him and headed out to the garden.  
  
I thought about Buffy and all the good she’d done for me, for Sunnydale, for the world. I thought about Paul and the great pride he’d taken in the lives he’d saved. He’d wanted me to come to the Council and I wished he were here to see it. I thought about Giles. Lady Marjorie had said he’d thought of me as a protégé. If he’d lived, would he have recommended me to the Council? I thought about how aimless and fruitless my life had become after I’d left Spike. I’d had a dream, a vision, a purpose but no way to fulfill it.  
  
 _I can’t help but like and trust Lady Marjorie but she and her nephew have their own agenda. I wish I had someone to advise me. Giles would know whom I could, and couldn’t, trust. Or even Paul, while I knew him less than a day, I really believe he had my best interests at heart._  
  
The wind picked up out of nowhere and blew away some overhanging flowers. I saw a snake. It looked familiar but the colors were wrong, they should be more vibrant and the eyes should have glowed like flame, and then I realized what I was seeing. It was coiled up in the same pattern as the snake, the protective statue, the one Paul had pointed out, in the library. If I remembered correctly, the guardian snake provided protection against both enemies and deception. I watched as its tongue flickered in and out and something inside me shifted. The snake sped away into the undergrowth.  
  
I found him in the library, perusing one of his aunt's more interesting books on magic. “Mr. Wyndam-Price?”  
  
Looking up from his book, he smiled and said, “I don’t get much of a chance to read this kind of thing anymore. I rather miss it. You have an answer for me?”  
  
I took a deep breath to calm myself and replied, “Yes, I will join the Council.”  
  
His smile widened and he shook my hand. “Wonderful. I’ll send Aidan around to meet you. I’m certain Aunt Marjorie will be quite happy to host him here, as he’s an expert on some extremely esoteric subjects. Oh, and Miss Rosenberg?” He suddenly sounded serious.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Please, call me Wesley,” he smiled and I realized he’d been teasing me with the serious tone. “I’ve never understood why but Wyndam-Price sounds like such an awkward mouthful tripping off of American tongues.”

  
\---

  
I found the Watcher’s place, which was in a fairly posh neighborhood considering it was probably on the Council’s tab. Looked like generic quarters from the outside but that’s about what I’d expected. There was an enclosed garden off to the side and I headed off there to wait but couldn’t get in. _Who the bloody Hell puts a vampire-keep-away spell on a garden?_ I scanned the area but this was the only good place to lurk. About that time a cycle came down the street and pulled up alongside me. The driver took off his helmet, youngish man, dark hair, nothing special.  
  
 _Always take the initiative to keep control of the situation_. “Can I help you, mate?”  
  
He looked me up and down and then said, “Spike, I presume.” _So much for controlling the situation, can’t be good, someone knowing my name outside a Watcher’s house._  
  
“Who wants to know?” I asked, trying to look unconcerned.  
  
“Wesley Wyndam-Price. I believe you’re looking for me?” _How’d he know I was here? Can’t have tracked me down through lover boy yet._ I raised an eyebrow and in response he pointed out a set of cameras policing the street.  
  
 _Wait. If he knows my name, he must know what I am and still he came looking for me? This just gets better and better_. _Need to get out of here, with him, before the Council goons show up, if they aren’t in place already_. “If you know who I am, you must know why I’m here.”  
  
“I’ll take you to her,” he replied. When I didn’t respond, he added, “You aren’t looking for Miss Rosenberg?”  
  
“You sure you know who I am?” I asked.  
  
“Spike. William the Bloody. One quarter of the Scourge of Europe.”  
  
“Left out that I killed two Slayers,” I said just to see him jump. Didn’t work. “You’re going to take me to Willow, just like that?”  
  
“She wants to see you,” he replied.  
  
 _Not bloody likely since she’s the one who left me_. “And you care so much? You should be on bloody Oprah.”  
  
“I don’t care but I’ve been told this will help her put your relationship behind her. I don’t see why she needs to, really, since she’s the one who did the leaving after all,” he added cruelly. I flashed into vamp face. He didn’t even flinch.  
  
“So where is she?” I asked.  
  
  
“Hop on,” he replied.  
  
“After you tell me where she is,” I said. He just looked at me. “You’re forgetting who has the power here,” I continued.  
  
“No. I’m not,” he replied. “You can’t find Willow without me therefore, my terms.”  
  
As I sat on the back of the cycle, I had a thought. “You’re not planning to drive me out to the middle of nowhere right about dawn are you? Cause I’ll take ferryman’s fee with me.”  
  
He didn’t react to the threat other than to tell me, “It’s less than four hours away. We’ll be there well before dawn. Put this on,” he held out a helmet to me.  
  
“Not wearing that. It’s not like you could kill me with a cycle.”  
  
“It’s the law,” he replied, “I don’t want to get pulled over and have you leaving a trail of corpses between here and...”  
  
“Here and where, Council lackey?” I asked.  
  
“Wherever it is we’re going.” Bloody bastard smiled, obviously enjoying keeping me in the dark. _Just wait. I won’t need you forever_.

  
\---

  
We pulled up to a farm, or what used to be a farm. The farmhouse looked like it had been revamped about two or three decades ago, place probably hadn’t been used as a farm in all that time. Off to one side was an even newer building, a mother-in-law cottage. As we approached the house I saw Willow by the door with a couple of other people: an older woman, obviously in charge even from this distance, and a man, in a butler’s uniform, who carried himself like military.  
  
I tossed off helmet and grabbed Wyndam-Price off the bike. “Here’s how it’s gonna work. I leave with Willow and you get him back.” Willow stepped forward and told me to let him go. “Umm, I’m here to rescue you?”  
  
“I don’t need rescuing,” she said as Wyndam-Price reached up and slapped me on the cheek. It burnt, it burnt like Hell, and I leapt back, letting him go. A cross fell to the ground. As I rushed at Wyndam-Price, he pulled out another cross and Willow stepped between us. I looked over to see that the woman had a spell ready to lob at me and her butler had a crossbow out, probably shot wooden arrows. They’d known I was coming but that was hardly a surprise. I’d known it was a trap before I’d gotten onto the bike, just hadn’t known Willow was in on it.  
  
“So, like this is it?” I asked Willow.  
  
“Spike, we need to talk,” she said. _No kidding, Red_ , I thought. “This way,” she added as she led me to the cottage.  
  
“If you’d gone to the Council willingly, why’d they send goons to pull you out of The Fox and Badger?” I asked, following behind. I kept an eye on the other three who had grouped together by the door of the house.  
  
Ignoring my question, Willow said, “Spike, you’re in danger.”  
  
“Can see that,” I replied. Willow looked around, noticed where I’d been looking, and said, “Not from them.” I raised an eyebrow and she continued with, “Right. They’re dangerous, they definitely don’t want you around, but they’re not the threat I’m worried about. Come in,” she said to invite me into the cottage.  
  
“What?” I asked as I stepped into the Spartan room: a few comfortable chairs, fireplace, and a kitchen off to the back. “The big house too good for this humble vampire? I’m hurt.” Changing my tone, I added, “Someone threatening you? Because, between the two of us, we can break out of this place, take the cycle, and be somewhere safe by sunrise.”  
  
Getting a bit irritable, she said, “I don’t need rescuing. I can leave anytime I want.”  
  
“Tested that, have you?”  
  
“No,” she replied. At my look she continued. “It’s not like that, Spike. None of us are safe.”  
  
“Us?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t including the trio from the farmhouse.  
  
“You. Angel. Drusilla. Me.” ‘ _Us’ includes Angel? Think I’d rather the trio from the farmhouse_.  
  
“Why not then?” I asked as I strolled to the window to check out the farmhouse. Nobody in sight, nobody was watching us, at least as far as I could tell from this window.  
  
“It’s the Council. It was our attack on the library in DC, that and killing Paul. I think it terrified them that we succeeded; the Council thought they were invulnerable.”  
  
“Luv,” I told her, “the bloke I rode in with is Council and pretty high up as far as I can tell.”  
  
“There are factions in the Council. Wesley wants an alliance,” she replied.  
  
 _Wesley?_ “With us?” I asked.  
  
“With me,” she replied. _Makes a bit more sense but still don’t get why a Council lackey would work with a witch who’s been living with vampires. Power hungry? Willow’s got some serious mojo and he might think he could use that for his own gain_.  
  
“You trust him then?”  
  
“No, I don’t trust him but he’ll take his aunt’s advice. She and I have had several long talks. I trust her, as much as I trust anybody these days.” I turned back from the window to face Willow, thinking _more than you trust me, you mean_.  
  
“And they want you because?” I asked.  
  
“Because I’m a powerful witch! Why else does anybody want me?” she raged.  
  
“It’s not why I want you,” I replied.  
  
“It was, once,” she said.  
  
“Nope, never. Angel wanted you for your power.” I said as I walked towards her. “I helped because, well because I wanted Dru. But you,” I took her hand, “won me over. I want you because I love you, plain and simple.” I thought Willow would be pleased by my declaration but she turned her head away from me. “You’re not leaving with me, are you?” I asked as I let go of her hand.  
  
“No. I wanted to warn you about Council so you’d keep yourself safe. You could return to Angel, warn him. The three of you should...”  
  
“Angel said he’d kill me the next time he saw me so I don’t think I’ll be giving him any warnings,” I snarled. Willow took it calmly. Got to say this for living with vampires for years, it inures you to violence. I can recall when that kind of statement would have had Willow in tears. I changed my tactics, wanting some emotion out of her, some indication that she once loved me. “So, I’m nothing to you now, is that it? You’ve got a more powerful protector so I’m just gonna be tossed by the wayside. You shagging him yet?”  
  
Willow looked at me as if I’d disappointed her and I realized that Wyndam-Price had nothing to do with this, the House of the Catmaster, that’s what it went back to. She’d changed there, more than I’d realized. “Sorry,” I mumbled, not sure what to say next, not knowing how to convince this new Willow. She didn’t need the apology, the new Willow could see right through me and understood why I’d attacked her.  
  
“I can do good here, Spike. Like I used to before...” she turned her head away, “like I did back in Sunnydale.”  
  
“You can destroy undead monsters like me again, you mean.” She didn’t reply. I lit up a cigarette and took a few puffs. “So, you’re not replacing me so much as you’re replacing the Slayer.” She looked like I’d punched her in the gut. I stepped to the door, looked out at the stars. “Answer me one question. Do you love me?”  
  
“Yes. But Spike, I...”  
  
“Shh, pet. I’m thinking,” I interrupted.  
  
For four or five cigarettes, I stood there. Willow eventually puttered back to the kitchen to make some tea. I thought about Dru. I thought about Willow. I thought about my feelings... and their feelings. I thought about how clear the stars looked out here in the middle of nowhere. I thought about everything I’d done as a vampire: fighting, mutilating, torturing, killing, and how that would look to a human. I thought about how my smoke momentarily obscured the stars. I thought about Willow’s strength, how she could go on without me even if it ripped her heart out. I thought about how weak I was in comparison. I thought about change. I thought about Angel, with and without his soul. I tossed my cigarette down, ground it into the dirt, stepped back inside, and sat down across from Willow. _May as well get comfortable for the fight_ , I thought and said, “Give me my human soul back.”  
  
“What?” she startled. _Didn’t see that coming, did you?_ I thought.  
  
“My human soul, witch it back,” I replied as if it were an everyday request and then added, “Of course, you might want to leave out the ‘we shag and I lose my human soul again’ clause.”  
  
“Spike, those magics are lost. Nobody knows that spell anymore.”  
  
“Only mediocre witches need spells, Willow. You’re past that. You have enough power to perform magic without spells. I’ve seen you do it. All you need is power, will, and desire,” I replied. Willow looked dumbfounded, as if she’d never realized that about herself. I gave her some time to take it in.  
  
“I can’t,” she replied.  
  
“Trust me on this one, Red, you’ve got more than enough power to do this.”  
  
“No, I mean... maybe you're right, maybe I can do this.” I started to object but Willow held up a hand. “For argument's sake, let's say you are right. Even if I could give you your soul back, I wouldn't. You wouldn’t be, well, you wouldn’t be you anymore,” she said. _I still wouldn’t be human enough for you, is that what you mean?_  
  
“Sort of the point. You’ve gone back to the ‘good guys’ and I use the term loosely in reference to the Council. If I get my soul back, I’ll have a human conscience and can be by your side,” I replied.  
  
“It’s not that simple: everything you’ve done as a vampire, have you thought about how your soul will handle all that, all that...” she couldn’t finish the question.  
  
“Evil, luv,” I said when it became apparent Willow wouldn’t. “If Angel can handle it, so can I,” I said half jokingly. Seeing Willow was about to object, I continued. “Willow, I have thought about it. What do you think I was doing earlier, counting stars?”  
  
Willow got up and started pacing the room. “What,” I asked. “You don’t think you’d like the new, improved me? Have to admit, that is my only concern. Angel with his human soul?” I shuddered. Willow looked at me as if I were barking mad; apparently it hadn’t occurred to her that she might stop loving me. _Good to know_ , I thought, giving myself a mental high-five.  
  
“Angel wasn’t that bad with his soul, a bit obsessed with Buffy, perhaps, but since you’re already obsessive compulsive, it wouldn’t be that much of a change,” she joked. _Distraction, distraction, distraction, why are we going for the distraction, Willow?_  
  
“Spit it out, luv.” Willow looked startled at my request and I continued, “What’s really bothering you?”  
  
Willow started pacing the floor again, wringing her fingers together. I waited. Finally she burst out with, “When Angel had his human soul he loved Buffy.” Not seeing the relevance, I waited some more. “Without his human soul, he didn’t. What if you don’t love me? After.”  
  
 _Not love Willow? She’s mad._ It was her strongest argument yet though. There was no logical way to convince here I'd still love her after such a fundamental transformation. No way to prove to her what I knew was true. _I’ll love you with my dying breath, er, with my last heartbeat, well no, try again. As I turn to dust, I’ll love you, no matter how many centuries, hopefully a lot, that takes_. I crossed my fingers as I pulled out my last card. I stood up and said, “Not going to happen.”  
  
“How can you be sure?” she asked.  
  
“This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?”  
  
Willow looked stunned. I stood there, waiting, barely able to hope but certainly unable to do anything else. An eternity passed, oceans dried to dust and became oceans again, and empires rose and fell while I waited. Willow walked up to me, smiled, took my hand, held it to her heart, and replied, “As you wish.”

  
\---

  
Lady Marjorie and her nephew weren’t pleased with our plan to restore Spike’s human soul. I think Wesley had been hoping I’d be willing to kill Spike once I’d seen him again. Still, he was quite helpful. Lady Marjorie and I decided my spell should be as close to the original as possible and, with his connections to the Watcher’s Council, Wesley was able to get the research done in a surprisingly short amount of time. Unfortunately the research didn’t tell us much: all we knew was that we would bring Spike’s soul into an Orb of Thessela and, from there, transfer it into Spike.  
  
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said.  
  
Lady Marjorie beat Spike to the response. “You can, you do have the power to do this, Willow.”  
  
“But I don’t know how to access magic outside of formal spells,” I replied.  
  
“You've done it before, Red,” Spike supplied. “Remember those lashes on my thighs? If it’ll help, we can recreate that evening,” he said, seductively starting to unbutton his shirt.  
  
“Spike, stop,” I started saying before I was interrupted.  
  
“Yes Spike, please stop,” Wesley said, aiming a crossbow at Spike’s heart. “I apologize aunt, but this will never succeed, best to kill off the vampire now.” Without moving a muscle, I threw Wesley against the wall and held him there.  
  
“I believe you’ll find you can perform that spell now,” he said.  
  
Spike jumped to my side, “Willow, he’s right. You’re doing it.” I let Wesley go and he fell to the floor. I looked into the Orb of Thessela and words poured out of me, guttural words, words I didn’t know. I followed the words back to a silver cord that connected me to... me? It was me and it wasn't me. If I’d been purified, refined, transformed into an angel, that’s what I’d be. The orb blazed brightly now. As I touched one hand to the orb and the other to Spike, the brightness shot into him. Spike screamed and my world collapsed into darkness.  
  
When I came to, Spike was calling my name. “Willow?”  
  
“I’m here.” I looked into Spike’s eyes. Their usual confidence had given way to doubt. Terror. Madness.  
  
“Don’t leave me, Willow,” he begged.  
  
“Shhh. I won’t. I’m here. I’m right here.”  
  
Shiva danced the universe into being, beyond death, and back into being again. That’s how long I waited there: universes came and went while Spike – while his human soul – screamed out its madness.  
  
Lady Marjorie brought us food and blood. I choked down the food and forced Spike to drink. She hadn’t aged. She should have. Universe after universe after universe blinked in and out of existence but Lady Marjorie remained consistent.  
  
My life became a pinpoint of time, never moving beyond that specific second. That nightmare second, full of screams, full of pain his eyes couldn’t contain. In that second, in that eternity, I held Spike. I held his screams. I held his pain. I held my love in my arms. Even as I passed out from exhaustion, I held him. I was his anchor, his rock, his way back. _Please let him find his way back. Please come back to me, my love._ All I could do was hold him while he cried out his madness.  
  
The stillness struck me. Not knowing how long ago he’d stopped, I panicked. “Spike?”  
  
“William,” he replied in a raw voice.  
  
“What?” I asked.  
  
“My human name is William.”

  
\---

  
I looked into Willow’s eyes. I saw hope there but also fear. I kissed her. I kissed her again. Then I recited:

  
“Now, a new creature, I am born,  
The old stripped away; -- I am new-made;  
And mounting in me, like the sun at morn,  
Love opens my heart, as a moon lily opens to shade  
Thou, First and Only Fair, from me hath shorn  
My will, my wits, and all that in me stayed,  
I in my Beloved’s arms am laid,  
I cry and call –  
‘O Thou my All,  
O let me die of Love!’”

  
“Die of love?” Willow asked, looking concerned.  
  
“Poetic license,” I replied and leaned in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> The Fox and Badger is taken from Of Old Mystics, a series I like quite a bit that pairs Giles and Ethan.
> 
> I'm familiar with the version of “Hurt” as sung by Johnny Cash but it was written by a member of Nine Inch Nails.
> 
> The flower display Lady Marjorie is arranging is from A Fall Collection in The Cutting Garden by Sarah Raven.
> 
> Spike's actions in the bar, beating people up until he gets the information he's looking for, comes from two sources: Rorschach in The Watchmen and Marcus Cole in Babylon 5.
> 
> If you don't recognize them, the line Spike uses to convince Willow to give him his human soul back is from The Princess Bride, as is the line Willow uses to tell him she'll do it.
> 
> The poem William quotes at the end is a rewording of “Now, a new creature” by Jacopone Bendetti, which can be read at Poetry Chaikhana, a collection of sacred poetry.


End file.
